My lucky day
by J. Snijders
Summary: JD finds a dollar, so his day starts out great! This may even be his -wait for it- lucky day! Chapter one up.


**My lucky day**

_Disclaimer: Okay, so this would be my very first attempt at writing fan fiction. Since English is not my native language, please forgive me if there are spelling and/or grammar mistakes, allthough I checked thoroughly. ;-) __Hopefully you'll like this first chapter, please let me know what you think, so I can make a decision wether or not to continue this._

_Oh, and I don't own any of this. Duh._

* * *

Today started out as a typical day at Sacred Heart. Dr. Kelso was trying to charm the cafeteria employee into giving him the last cupcake, since he forgot his wallet. Laverne was preaching the word of Jesus to some guy who came in with VD, and Todd was doing his daily "give-me-the-power-to-do-this" routine in the locker room, which involved some ballet shoes, a can of dog meat, his tiger-striped thong and a Michael Jackson song – let's not get into that right now.

The janitor was giving me the evil eye again, which meant I was probably going to pay for something I didn't do later on. I really couldn't be bothered with it, 'coz so far, I've had a pretty good day! You see, I found me a shiny new dollar. I took it out of my pocket to look at it, this bit of green paper, which now symbolized my luck. Finding this bill was an omen, it promised more good things to come. After all, it's not everyday you find yourself a brand new, crispy….

"…dollar." Dr. Cox had snatched it right out of my hands.

"That's right, Christine, this – is now mine. I fined your butt. Ya see, this is going to be our new thing. Whenever you doze of to some magical far-away land where people don't mind that you actually don't have pair of 'em, and you slay beautiful women and make love to dragons to fulfil this burning need of, what could appear to the outside world to be, some masculine qualities which we both know to be faa-haaar out of your reach, so you just settle for one testicle and have a pre-order for the second, you know, the one's that'll always be 'in the mail' when you call the post order hotline as to when it's gonna be sent, so, now……."

Dr. Cox probably needs to blow of steam, this rant takes him longer than usual, maybe I should offer to buy him a cup of coffee, so he can vent to me, his prodigy, his pupil, his…"

"Jackass! Here I find myself tearing you a new one for always fading in and out in conversations, and you fade out – in – the – rant – concerning – fading ! I mean really newbie, you have got to wake up and smell the bloody carcasses! You're not _in_ Wonderland, and you're name is _not_ Alice, although, I must admit I probably haven't been too clear on that last part, Alice, err, Gladys!" Cox is staring me down with his fire-shooting, slightly unstable eyes, his teeth grinding and his arms crossed over his chest, all designed to make him more intimidating. Well, it doesn't really work with me anymore, especially on this day, my lucky day!

"Dr. Cox," I offer in my most caring tone of voice. "You are obviously dealing with some strong, personal and emotional stuff, so why don't I take you out for a beer later, and you can share whatever is eating you up! How's that Coxy?"

Right now I see a number of expressions on his face, going from confusing to annoying, to furious, then to…. Calmness.

"Fair enough." He says, with a blank look. I used to believe I had won the battle at this point. But, I have known the guy for 5 years now, and I know this calmness of his is the sign of something even worse than his all-out anger outbursts. I am in a lot of trouble.

* * *

Ok, so I'm upside down. So I'm in a garbage can. So I'm upside down in a garbage can. I must admit I didn't see _that_ one coming. I try to wiggle my way out of it, knocking over the garbage can and myself in the progress. I get the thing off of my head, only to find the janitor standing not two inches from my face. 

"So, you thought I didn't have enough to do today? You thought: "Hey, the janitor seems to be only mildly burned out today, lets make him work for what little money he gets to make up for the amounts we doctors need to drive our Porches?". He seems kinda violent right now. Quick, steer clear! Steer clear!

"… I don't… eh… drive a Porsche." I practically whisper. Great, Dorian, great way to avoid trouble. Really snappy and smart.

"But you could, couldn't you? If you wanted to?"

"Well, if I rented one…" _Shut up Dorian, just shut up! No good will come of this!_

"Great. Now, to make up for this, go rent me a Porsche. Go!"

I am not going to rent him a Porsche, although I know he will make me pay for that later. I'm off to rounds, and still feeling very cheery. These little incidents occur to me so often they don't really bother me anymore. Besides, I found a dollar this morning. Minor setbacks aside, this will still be a good day. Mark my words.

* * *

"JD, it's the worst day ever!" Off course, when you're Elliot Reed, _everyday_ is the worst day ever. I can't believe how neurotic this girl is. And I can't believe how I love her for it. 

"You have to help me," she sobs. "I seem to have misplaced Mr. Zolowsky's arm, I can't find it anywhere!"

I fade out, and in my mind I see Mr. Zolowsky's arm on Elliot's back, with the hand firmly placed on her ass. Mr. Zolowsky is grinning his mouth to the teeth in the room down the hall.

"No, JD," Elliot says irritated. "His arm is not on my back, and that's not his hand on my ass!" How can she know what I'm thinking? Am I that obvious?

"No, that's mine." says 'the Todd' with a meaningful smile to me. "I would high-five you, but my hand is kinda busy right now." He's so full of himself.

"Remove it, or I'll removed it from you!" Elliot threatens. She can be very aggressive, especially when it comes to 'the Todd'. I really can't blame her, but he's like a piñata of sexual harassment: the more you beat him, the more stuff comes out. Eww!

"Ok, Elliot" I say calmly and reassuringly. "Think. Where have you last seen the arm? – Wait a minute! What do you mean you lost his arm?!"

"He has a prosthetic, remember?" She's growing more impatient. "I went to get it cleaned up because I spilled coffee all over it when he asked me out – not the arm, Mr. Zolowsky of course, or that would be just _too _weird. Although, I once went out with a man with a wooden leg. That was sexy…" She drifts off, into a world of crazy Elliot sex. I shiver when I think what could be going on in there. Elliot is a freak, really.

"Where would you get it cleaned up?"

"Well, I went to the kitchen to rinse it off with water, which doesn't work by the way. If you would see what coffee did to that plastic imitation tissue, it's like…..well, I'm never going to drink coffee again."

"That's what you said about chicken wings, Elliot, and that lasted for about a week. How would you not get that a chicken wing is made out of a chicken's wing?"

Her face changed from impatient and frantic to sad. "I thought it was a metaphor," she murmured.

"Anyway." I try to get back to the situation at hand. "You took it to the kitchen. Then what?"

"Let's see. I tried some alcohol, but that didn't help. Washed his tattoo right off by the way." This guy had a tattoo on his prosthetic arm? OK – I had to meet him now.

"Then I took it to the lab, but apparently acids burn trough anything, not only coffee stains." Sometimes I can't believe Elliot even got into college.

"Okay, okay, I'll help you look." It's only fair that I share some of this luck I've got going for me.


End file.
